Posted 2 years ago
Wherever eggs lie upon the verdant knoll—over blanched patchworks, land abluted by sunlight, or papillary dew aglow—the twitching noses of the little rabbits shall blithely rove.
My antique Armand Marseille googly, Heubach, and Kewpie dolls are wearing cottontail ensembles to, in their basket-carrying pursuit, forage for nestled eggs and the prasine pompadours of latiating carrots. Meanwhile, my victorious Hertwig penny doll, the unsung champion of the egg hunt, is enveloped by her picking prowess: the pastel contents of her bentwood basket. Foxy Grandpa, warmly embraced by his adjuvant grandsons, Chub and Bunt, like the place card Kewpies with their furry companions and the crocheted Carl Horn-style rabbit, quietly watch the blonde mohair bear timidly search for further springtime spoils.